The Fall and Rise pattern.
I write to my Dad.
I’m not even sure if he ever read my letters till the end but I still write to him about few experiences I strongly feel for. I broke
the news about my relationship through a letter and that’s probably
the only time he replied through SMS. His response was - ‘OK’. I
literally squeaked while in a meeting. So I wrote to him again, this
time, the letter was wet with tears. There were tears, a lot of tears
are involved if I’m writing to my Dad, heart-full and eyes-full! I
wrote ‘I am going not for ambition or money, but to work on myself
and fight these demons inside me’.
It wasn't easy at
all. This decision. This transition. This ‘huge’ Change. I am not
a person willing to accept a lot of changes. I love the comfort that
my country provides. I needed that in my life. I like those loud
noises in the night, they literally put me to sleep. I like those
childish giggles I hear, those speakers roaring with Bollywood music
somewhere far, 12AM birthday wishes noise, even the Kirana shop smell
(so very Indian), the chaos, the traffic, the struggle, the juggle
and of course, home where I still feel my mom and another home where
I ‘try’ to be a mom! I am like Amitabh Bachan from ‘Piku’
minus the constipation! Apna Ghar, Apna Bistar!
But like every time,
there are changes. Big ones this time. I cried and cried and cried at
the thought of leaving my dad and the rest of the family and also
felt sad that I was to leave the country I LOVE! And so we took off.
I told myself, ‘not for long’!
Then we reached.
New place, new-ish people, new faces basically no familiarity. Demons
out! There were calls from all over the world to check if I was doing
OK. I was surprised at how few people know me so well. Then the call
volume got thinner. But the struggle continued. The emptiness around
made me feel all Melancholy. Didn’t like the food, the country, the
weather, the smell of this country (Not kidding, every place has a
smell) and above all I didn’t like myself and wondered why did I
even get myself in to this mess.
As weeks passed, I
found myself in a routine which involved looking for jobs, cooking,
cleaning, talking walks in the emptiness, come back to bed, a lot
missing home thoughts and sleep (hoping that we won’t get mugged).
Routine always helps us get through difficult days, a set of things
to do, less time for nonsensical thinking. Well it’s been a month
and there have been more shitty days than good ones. Less tears,
accepting unfamiliar situations and surroundings, occasional
crankiness, weird to pleasant interactions (visited an indian family
and had the best meal here). But some days like today, home is being
missed. People at home are being missed!
I’m still fighting
my Demons, Nanna! Long way to go!
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